


Could I Rest Here For a While?

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: “What do you mean he hit his head? And why am I just now hearing about this?”Gallo promptly closes his mouth, mid harrowing tale, and gives Brett a wary glance. “It was just a slight knock against the building and he had his helmet on—““With Matt, a little knock can be a big deal,” Brett says as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the Candidate.Gallo slides a beseeching glance over to Kidd, who rolls her eyes but decides to be merciful.“Lin checked him out on the scene,” Kidd promises her. “Gave him a clean bill of health.”Sylvie scoffs. “Right, like he’d actually admit it if anything was wrong. Is he in his quarters?”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 51
Kudos: 190





	Could I Rest Here For a While?

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So I had a craving for some hurt/comfort and for OTP cuddles and there’s really no other point to this fic lol. Just some future established Brettsey being soft and sweet and supportive.
> 
> Happy reading! 
> 
> xoxo

******

_“Could I rest here for a while,_

_Near that medal 'round your neck?_

_St. Jude's wearing a smile,_

_He wouldn't mind I bet._

_I can't go face the world,_

_My bones won't hold me up,_

_So tell the saint of lost souls where to find me,_

_Softly sleeping here in the deep end of someone who loves me.”_

_-“Someone Who Loves Me” by Sara Bareilles_

_******_

“What do you mean he hit his head? And why am I just now hearing about this?”

Gallo promptly closes his mouth, mid harrowing tale, and gives Brett a wary glance. “It was just a slight knock against the building and he had his helmet on—“

“With Matt, a little knock can be a big deal,” Brett says as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the Candidate.

Gallo slides a beseeching glance over to Kidd, who rolls her eyes but decides to be merciful.

“Lin checked him out on the scene,” Kidd promises her. “Gave him a clean bill of health.”

Sylvie scoffs. “Right, like he’d actually admit it if anything was wrong. Is he in his quarters?”

Kidd nods and grins knowingly. “Take it easy on him. He made a good save — a baby.”

Her hard expression softens in an instant. “Understood. Thanks for letting me know.” Sylvie squeezes Kidd’s shoulder as she rushes off to find Matt.

When she reaches his quarters, she finds him filling out a report. She watches him for a moment and notices the pinch in his brow and the way his hand occasionally rubs his eyes or his temple. She leans against the open door frame with an exasperated huff.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” She asks softly. It’s a genuine question, not an accusation.

He turns in his chair to face her, pen gripped tightly in his hand. “Because I’m not.”

“Then why are you about to snap that pen in half? And why have you rubbed your head at least three times in the last ten minutes?”

He blows out a breath and slumps in his chair, as if her questions sucked all the fight out of him. “It’s just a headache. This isn’t like last time.”

“It better not be,” she replies as she steps into his quarters and shuts the door.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I took some aspirin. I’m waiting for it to kick in.”

She nods but continues drawing the blinds shut and then flips off his light. “Glad to hear it, but until then step away from the report and put down the pen. Rest for a few minutes, Matt. No lights, no reading, and eyes closed. It’ll help.”

She feels his eyes on her as she toes off her shoes and sits down on his cot. She slides back as far as she can go and then pats the empty narrow space next to her. “Come on, Captain. PIC’s orders.”

He grins warmly at her, huffing out a light disbelieving laugh. “Are you gonna do this every time I get a little bump on the head from here on out?”

She nods. “Or at least every time your eyebrows pinch together like that afterwards. It’s not even been two months since your last concussion and having seen what that did to you I’m not taking any chances. Now that we’re dating, that’s my right. So, get over here. Right now.”

He shakes his head as he makes his way to his bunk. He sits down on the mattress and takes off his shoes. Once that’s done, Sylvie pulls him in until his head rests on her chest and his arms are wound around her waist. He has no choice but to follow her. When it comes to making sure he takes care of himself, he doesn’t have a choice. If she has to she’ll make that choice for him. He’s too stubborn to do it himself.

She wraps one arm around his neck while her opposite hand idly glides through his hair, soothingly skimming over his scalp, repeatedly. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as he relaxes against her. His head is tucked under chin, but after a moment she dips her head and presses her lips to his hairline.

She knows her tender kisses won’t help take the edge off, but a part of her will never stop believing in the idea of “kiss it better” no matter how old she gets. The gesture of her kisses must bring him some peace of mind because he wraps himself tighter around her in response.

She has a nagging feeling that no one’s ever really done this kind of thing for him. That thought saddens her. Especially given how affectionate he’s proven himself to be. Over the last few weeks she’s discovered that Matt offers physical affection freely and frequently. She’s not sure if he’s always been that way and she just never noticed or if he’s been denied it for so long that he’s simply making up for lost time. He never seems to expect her affection each time she reciprocates. Even if she _always_ returns his kindness, he seems surprised every single time.

It’s made her more affectionate than normal. She somehow instinctively senses that he needs it more than he’ll admit and he’ll never ask for more than she’s willing to give. So, to her, the solution is easy; she’s simply always willing to give him every bit of love and affection she has within her. He deserves it, after all.

“You sure it’s just a headache?” She asks with warmth and concern.

“I’m sure,” he answers, dropping a quick kiss to the curve where her neck and shoulder meet. “It hasn’t even come close to migraine levels. The aspirin will be enough.”

She releases a relieved breath and lets the arm around his neck relax, lowering a few inches to rub soothing circles on his back.

“You better be careful,” he warns teasingly. “You’re gonna spoil me at this rate.” 

She chuckles and kisses his hairline again. “That’s the point. You deserve a little spoiling, Matt Casey.”

And she intends to spoil him as frequently as possible.

This is the fourth time in two months that Sylvie has sought him out and forced him to take a breather with her after a hard call. He won’t admit it outloud, but she knows he appreciates it. He enjoys that she worries, and relishes that she cares enough to insist. It’s completely sweet the way he leans into her attention. He opens up under her touch and she understands deeply how much of a _gift_ that vulnerability is when it comes to someone as fiercely private as her Captain.

It took them too long to arrive at this place they’re in now. They were both afraid to love again and especially afraid of how intensely they love each other, but in moments like this she wonders how she could have ever been afraid of him. They’re each other’s safe place — both steadfast and true. They give as much to each other as they take, meaning neither person ever feels as if they’ve been left empty. The act of loving him fulfills her in a way she’s never been before.

No, loving him doesn’t define her, but he makes her better. She doesn’t have to rearrange her life in order to keep him, instead they meet each other in the middle. It’s the partnership she’s been wanting all her life. She spent weeks trying to convince herself she could move on and be just as happy with anyone else, but now she sees that was completely untrue.

She _could_ live without him. She _could_ be happy. But she would never be as happy as she is _right now_ with anyone else. She would only ever feel this overwhelmingly joyful with _Matt_. Now that she fully understands the depth of her feelings for him, she will never try and deny them again.

She couldn’t even if she tried.

******

Another shift, another set of calls that could potentially be life and death. Ambo left on a solo call almost an hour ago and about a half hour later Boden came to find Casey. Chief had heard from Brett and Mackey and the call was a rough one.

The neighbors had been concerned about a young woman in the neighborhood and called 911 to have someone check on her. The landlord let them in the apartment and when they stepped inside they found the tenant bleeding out on the floor from multiple stab wounds. The assailant had fled through an open window and Brett had called a 10-1. The landlord suspected it was her ex-boyfriend and had given his description to the cops.

But despite Brett and Mackey’s best efforts, the woman died on the way to Med. She’d lost too much blood before the medics had arrived.

Ambo is due back any minute. Casey paces next to 81 while he waits.

Brett and Mackey’s solo calls are the ones that worry him the most. Typically, they’re fine but every now and then a call comes up that causes his blood to run cold in fear and worry. While this call never put Sylvie in any direct physical danger, it did put her in emotional danger. He knows she’s lost patients before but this one reminds him too much of another call she told him about a couple of years ago. One that, he already knows, hurt her deeply.

Finally, 61 pulls back into the house. He hangs back and gives Sylvie a moment with Mackey. He watches them talk in low hushed tones with reassuring expressions before Mackey walks away, headed inside the house.

“Hey,” Matt greets as he approaches. “You okay?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “I’m fine. I mean, it was rough for sure, but we were called in too late. We kept her alive as long as we could given the amount of trauma her body suffered.”

She sounds far too clinical and detached. Warning flags go up in his brain. She may _say_ she’s fine, but she isn’t. She’s no where close to it, in fact.

“I have no doubt you did your job to the best of your ability. You always do,” Matt affirms. “But that’s not what I was asking. Are _you_ okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” she stammers. “Not the first patient I’ve ever lost.”

His head tilts and his eyes narrow skeptically. Sylvie squeezes his arm to reassure him and forces a smile. “Really, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t buy it but he lets it go...for now.

He nods and then ushers her into the house with a hand on the small of her back. “I saved you a plate. It’s taco night so the food went pretty quick.”

“Thank you,” she says, smiling genuinely this time. She leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m starving.”

Matt chooses to finish up his reports in the common room while Sylvie eats dinner. She claims to be fine and she does _seem_ to be. She’s joking and socializing with Stella, Cruz, and Mackey but something is slightly _off_ about her laugh and her eyes. Kidd catches his stare across the room and he knows she sees it too.

Mackey stands up and walks passed where he sits at the round table. He decides he should check on her too. Sylvie wasn’t the only one on that call.

“Hey, Mackey.”

“Captain,” she replies.

“How are you holding up after that call, you okay?” He asks.

She nods and then gestures to Sylvie with a thumb over her shoulder. “If Brett’s okay, then I’m okay. She was the one in the back with the patient and well...it didn’t sound like the woman passed easily or quickly. She was a fighter for sure. And Brett handled it like a pro as always. I don’t know that I could’ve done that.”

“You drove the ambo?” 

Sylvie told him she planned to drive the ambo until Mackey was a little less green. The only exceptions were truly severe cases.

“Yeah, as soon as we saw the patient, she handed me the keys. I guess she knew it was going to be a difficult one from the start.”

Or she didn’t want Mackey to be the one standing over the patient as she faded away — looking out for her partner first as always.

“You know you don’t have to be okay because she is,” Matt advises. “Different people can have different responses.”

“I know,” Mackey replies. “But seeing her get through it helps, you know? It assures me I can survive it too, even when I think it’s too much. Brett’s pretty much always rock steady. It makes me feel like it’s okay that I’m still learning. Takes the pressure off.”

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.”

He’s not really. Not at all. Because now he understands the mask Sylvie’s wearing.

He watches and waits for Sylvie to finish dinner and as soon as she does he packs up his report and finds her at the long table. “Can we talk?”

She nods, looking unsure, and stands to follow him but the bells go off for another solo Ambo call.

Sylvie sighs and tightens her small ponytail. “It’s gonna be one of those nights I think. Talk when I get back?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They don’t get back until half past midnight. Most of the house had fallen asleep, but Casey waited up. He has his blinds pulled shut but his door is cracked open and the lamp next to his bunk is on. He’s gotten into the habit of waiting up for her when she has late night calls. She always checks in when she gets back.

Tonight is no exception.

“Back safely,” she informs him as she slips through the narrow doorway opening and closes it behind her. She crawls into the bunk next to him and snuggles into his side. “Ready for inspection, if you’d like to verify that for yourself.”

He chuckles at her teasing tone as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer. He kisses the top of her head and then rests his cheek against it. “I believe you.”

“Do you still need to talk?”

“Yes,” he replies truthfully. “I know you said you’re fine about the call you had earlier—“

“Matt—“

“ _But_ Mackey told me a little about it and I think you’re putting up a brave front for her sake. And I get that. Trust me, I do, but you know you don’t have to do that with me, don’t you?”

He hears and feels her shaky inhale and exhale while her chest is pressed against his and rubs her back consolingly.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” she admits. “It was _awful_. There was so much blood and she was still conscious, crawling for the door—“ She cuts off her own sentence with a shudder. “And I’ve watched people die from blood loss before. Usually, it’s slow and quiet but this was _not_. She kept trying to talk to me but all that came out were these horrible gurgling sounds, as if she were drowning. Her hand had a tight hold on mine and her eyes...god, it was like she was _pleading_ with me to save her.”

He hears a loud sniffle and feels a wet spot on his neck, where she’s hidden her face, before she continues.

“But I couldn’t. I did everything I knew to do and no matter what I tried she slipped further and further away. She died before we were even halfway to Med.”

He bands his arms around her, holding her securely as she starts to cry, and leaves several kisses on the top of her head that get lost in her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. She knows all the standard lines just as well as he does. There’s no point in repeating them. The best he can do is hold her and support her.

His eyes begin to water as she continues to sob into his shoulder. Her pain is his pain. He’s not sure when that began but he knows it won’t change anytime soon. He has a feeling his happiness will be dependent upon hers for the rest of his days. And, oddly enough, it makes him glad. He never thought he’d need another person the way he needs Sylvie ever again.

She can cry on his shoulder for as many nights as she needs.

He’s not going anywhere. He’s staying right by her side — for as long as they both shall live.

Not that he’s jumping the gun. Not this time. But someday (soon but not too soon) he’ll make it official. He’s known that from the moment she chose to let him back in. He’s got a second chance and he has no plans to waste it.

******

Stumbling out of the Firehouse half awake is never something a person intends to do. It happens when you’ve had one call so terribly huge at an insanely late hour and it takes hours to evacuate people, transport victims, and clean up the scene. It happens when the Fates decide they're bored and choose to fuck up a huge mass of mortal lives all at once — leaving the first responders of the world to clean up their mess.

That’s what happened to 51 last night. Their rigs pulled in to the house at various times between 5:30 and 6:30 which didn’t allow any one of them a single bit of rest.

Casey catches Sylvie’s hand as she starts meander away from him, in the direction of her car, and brings her fingers to his lips while tugging her in the opposite direction.

“Come on,” he requests. “You were out longer than Truck. Let me drive you.”

Her nod is sluggish. It matches her half lidded gaze. She lets him reel her into his side, leaning against him as they walk — one arm around each other.

He leans down and kisses the crown of her head. He’s exhausted too but she was still running victims to Med as they were finishing up overhaul so he has an inkling she’s twice as exhausted as he is.

He opens the truck door for her, watching her step as she clumsily climbs up into the cab. Once she’s safely seated he closes the door and walks around to get in the driver’s side. The ride passes in comfortable silence with Sylvie softly humming along with the Nineties Hits station and one of her hands in his.

As tired as they are, it’s a peaceful moment in time.

He parks outside of her apartment and follows her inside. He shoulders the straps to both their duffles and threads their fingers together as they walk. While inside the elevator, she rests her head on his shoulder and allows her eyes to drift closed.

When the doors open he gently nudges her forward. She lets out a groggy chuckle and playfully bites his shoulder before shuffling out into the hall.

Everything that happens from then on is wordless and natural as if they’ve been making this journey to her home their entire lives. They head straight to her bedroom once inside the apartment. He stores their bags in her closet to be unpacked later. They move in silent coordination as they change into more comfortable clothes, pull back the covers, and climb into their respective sides of the bed.

It’s not until they’re meeting in the middle of the mattress and automatically settling into their usual positions that the wonder of it all truly hits him.

She’s lying on her side, facing him with one leg thrown over both of his. She has a shoulder tucked under his arm and her head resting on his chest while her left arm is draped across his chest. He stares at that arm in awe while breathing in the light tropical scent of her shampoo.

Just a few months ago, he thought all of this was impossible. She _told him_ it was impossible. Yet here they are, coexisting together as if it’s second nature. Like their relationship is the most organic and obvious thing in the world.

As if they never intend to be apart ever again.

He’s overcome with emotion over nothing at all — just a quiet morning in bed with his overworked and overtired girlfriend — but all this _nothing_ feels like an incredibly poignant _something_. 

The beginning of an important journey or the foundation of a future he’d given up on. Sylvie had very quickly become the most invaluable person in his life and they’re in for many mornings just like this if he has anything to say about it.

He gives her a tight squeeze and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Sylvie. Sleep tight.”

She hums contentedly, squeezing him in return. “Love you too. But don’t you dare set an alarm, Matt Casey, or I _will_ hurt you.”

He chuckles sleepily as his eyes begin to feel heavy. “Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, fighting a yawn. “No alarm.”

Not that he’d want one when enjoying time off with her. She’s his home, his heart, and his safe place to surrender. 

It’s easy to rest with someone who loves you.


End file.
